


to the heartless you

by Kou (Rietto)



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Unrequited Love, is it?, spoiler up to Master Likes a Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:41:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29243754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rietto/pseuds/Kou
Summary: Homare knew he was abnormal. He knew that he had difficulties understanding people's feelings.Hisoka, on the other hand, never even bothered, and the frustration was real.
Relationships: Arisugawa Homare/Mikage Hisoka
Comments: 3
Kudos: 48





	to the heartless you

**Author's Note:**

> Can you believe 'Homare confessed in the middle of a performance to Hisoka' is canon?

Homare Arisugawa was different than normal people.

Most would definitely think so, and Homare was aware of that himself. He’s aware of that, and thus had prepared himself for every possibility his words and intents be taken the wrong way. If he was to explain, he could somewhat guess what others were thinking, but how that thought could come to them would always be beyond him.

He was sure that the feeling was mutual though.

People struggled with him just as he struggled with them.

Can’t be helped.

And then, there’s Hisoka Mikage.

To say that he’s different from normal people would be an understatement.

Tsumugi could probably name few medical terms to explain why Homare, Hisoka, and some other people in their company were abnormal. Unlike Homare who could pass as normal, Hisoka definitely couldn’t. His abnormality was just as obvious as it could get, and unlike Homare who at least tried to be normal, Hisoka just never seemed to bother.

Someone said that people were all born evil and that it took great effort to be kind.

Hisoka never made that effort.

Homare’s problem was that his kindness (not that he’d use that word to explain, he’s not that conceited) was often misinterpreted as arrogance or something worse. Hisoka, however, just couldn’t understand kindness in the first place.

Homare first realized this a few days after they started cohabitating.

“… what do you want from me?”

“Excuse me?”

In his rare moment of wake, Hisoka had asked that.

“All living in this dorm is part of a theatre company, Hisoka-san. I want you to be an actor,” Izumi had said. Hisoka had nodded his ascent before dozing off once more, and Homare thought that was the end of that.

“You got me mattress and furniture and marshmallows. You need something from me.”

“How cynical of you, Hisoka-kun.”

“… you don’t?”

“Not particularly, no.”

Indulgence.

Fulfilling one’s comfort.

Arisugawa family had always been fortunate, and Homare himself gained more than he could spend from his work. He liked to indulge himself, mainly by getting things of artistic values to inspire himself and high-quality alcohol and tea, he didn’t think there’s anything shameful from admitting so.

In other words, Homare didn’t think there’s anything he wanted when he’s used to be able to get them easily. Even when he did want something, he’d never been unable to obtain them.

Meanwhile, Hisoka Mikage … literally speaking, which was amazing in so many ways, had absolutely nothing to his name. _Nothing_. Even his age was just an estimate decided by everyone else, seeing as he had seemed around Tsumugi and Tasuku’s age. Homare wondered why Hisoka even asked him if he’d given the furniture, mattress, and marshmallow because he’s expecting something from the other man when he had obviously nothing he could offer.

Well, Homare supposed, Hisoka being cautious even in a desperate situation was logical and smart. Homare had been fortunate all his life, with no reason to question any kindness given to him. He didn’t understand Hisoka but he supposed it would make sense to be hesitant towards strangers, like how children were always cautioned to not accept anything from them.

Strangers, they were still after all.

Homare would, later on, wonder if Hisoka's inability to understand kindness was due to his past circumstances. He would then drunkenly cry about how happy he was that Hisoka could now enjoy being showered with kindness. That, however, would only happen a couple of years in the future. At that moment, Homare could only be puzzled over his roommate, not yet forming enough strong enough bond to be curious of the man's past other than for the thrill of it.

Pandora was curious about what's inside the box, unknowing of the darkness waiting to be unleashed. Homare then was as foolish as she, he'd lament in the future.

“If I must say, Hisoka-kun, seeing you sleeping on hard wood or on the floor without even a blanket to cover yourself makes me uncomfortable. I just wanted to stop seeing that.”

“… uncomfortable.”

“Yes.”

“So it’s pity.”

Homare mulled it over.

“Pity… would imply that I feel _bad_ for you. But, really, there’s no such thing. Rather, isn’t this arrangement work out better for you? You were homeless before, were you not? There’s nothing for me to pity you for. You’ve been quite fortunate, haven’t you?”

Both stared at each other. Hisoka seemed uncertain when he nodded, which was impressive since Homare didn’t think he could recognize emotion easily.

Misumi had said that Hisoka was ill, had always been since he first spotted him around town almost a year prior. That Hisoka’s memory was so damaged that it’s only recently that he could even recognize him. He couldn’t wake up and he couldn’t remember anything. A deadly combination, more so for someone living in the street.

To be accepted is a happy thing, Misumi claimed so cheerfully. And acting was fun, so it’s even happier. And the dorm had a triangular roof, which was an important point, he’d insisted.

Homare didn’t understand, but Misumi, who had been in Hisoka’s position said so. It couldn’t be wrong.

“Then…”

“Seeing you on the floor gives me backache. That’s the only reason. And I’d hate for your things to just be cluttered around the floor, that’s unhygienic and messy, Hisoka-kun.”

“… I see.”

And that was that.

Then Homare would notice things.

How it's absolutely impossible to get Hisoka to do anything if it's not in exchange for some marshmallows, and how he'd always seem so confused when people fussed over him not eating or sleeping where he shouldn't.

"... why?"

He'd always asked when people proclaimed that they're worried about him. That he'd get sick or else.

Homare only realized how infuriating that was when, just as everyone else had always warned the narcoleptic, Hisoka ended up getting ill. Worst of all, it was during their play-run, and Hisoka's abnormal way of thinking led him to hide instead of asking for help when he should. Those hours spent looking for him was honestly, the longest and most nerve-wracking Homare had ever experienced.

It didn't help that he was found behind the Unopened Door. 

When Izumi and the rest of the Winter Troupe were discussing what to do next regarding the performance, Homare decided that it’s his duty to make sure Hisoka stayed in bed and get better.

He forced medicines, vitamins, and also sport drinks Hisoka’s way, rambling all the while.

“We couldn’t find you anywhere. And you weren’t answering your phone! I was so worried! _We_ were so worried!”

“…”

“We _need_ to be able to find you, Hisoka-kun,” Homare insisted. “Also, for today, no marshmallow for you!”

“… why?”

“Why, you ask? Why… it’s because you disappeared! Hisoka-kun, you are sick! What if it happens again and we couldn’t find you anywhere and you’re dying-“

“It’s just a cold. I wouldn’t die from this. And I wouldn’t miss the performance.”

“That’s not my point, Hisoka-kun!”

Homare shrieked at his roommate. Hisoka looked up to him as if in surprise, his one visible eye widening.

“Hisoka-kun, it’s not the matter of you missing our performance. Anyone from the other troupes can replace you! We’re in a dorm full of actors, for god’s sake! You’re sick, and you were gone, and you nearly gave me a heart attack…! Stop scaring me like that!”

Later on, the leaders and everyone else would unanimously claim that it’s simply impossible for anyone to replace _anyone_ at a moment's notice, obviously ignoring Masumi’s claim that he’d do anything perfectly for Izumi. It didn’t help that Hisoka was one of their more skillful actors and not many could match his performance on stage. Hisoka would stare at Homare pointedly while Homare proclaimed that modesty was certainly a virtue. 

But that would be later. As for then, Hisoka was bundled up in the futon with a wet towel on his forehead and being all but force-fed all kinds of liquid and Homare was pacing back and forth and added more and more to the Hisoka-filled blanket burrito. Even if there’s anyone else, no one would dare to say otherwise to Homare.

“… why are you scared?” he just asked back, eyes narrowed and eyebrows furrowed seemingly genuinely confused.

“Hisoka-kun,” Homare breathed out as he pushed a thermometer to Hisoka’s mouth. “You’re sick and we couldn’t find you. Of course, anyone would be scared out of their minds!”

“… why?”

“Because… you could have fallen asleep as you cross the street and got hit by a car for all we know! You could have fallen asleep outside and got hypothermia!”

“Why?”

“Because-”

“If it’s not because of the performance… why?”

Homare Arisugawa, a poet.

Broken cyborg who couldn’t empathize easily with people. He’s used to others telling him that he’s just exhausting to be with, that he’s insensitive and could only hurt people with his words. Thanks to the Director and a magical Loupe, he’d only started to learn how to deal with it at the young age of twenty-seven.

He finally found his match.

“Aah… so this is how it feels to be so utterly positively _infuriatingly_ baffled with how one thinks…”

“… my line,” Hisoka mumbled just as the thermometer in his mouth beeped. Homare pulled the thermometer and slumped down from relief.

37.5oC, it said.

Still on the high side, but not as high as before.

“Alice… is weird. From the start, you give me things. Unlike Director, you don’t ask for anything else in exchange. Why?”

To her credit, Izumi was desperate when she asked Hisoka to stay in the dorm. Also, she had seemed really worried and had said that they obviously needed to perform without Hisoka for that day, which prompted the discussion with the other members. 

“It’s normal to not want anyone to die on your watch, I’ll have you know. Here, take one more tablet of paracetamol and finish that sports drink.”

“… weird,” Hisoka just said before obediently taking the medicine and drink.

Nom.

Gulp gulp gulp.

“You are even more of an enigma, Hisoka-kun… Really, what a troublesome roommate you are.”

Hisoka let out a sigh as his mouth separated with the bottle. Homare noticed that color had returned to his face a bit, he’d seemed a little less pale than before. Good good.

Then he started to squirm as if wanting to escape his blanket cocoon, which was not good.

“What are you doing? Stop it and just sleep.”

“… too hot. The blanket is too much.”

“You need to sweat everything out.”

“Don’t wanna. Feels gross.”

“ _Hisoka-kun_.”

“Also, tonight’s performance. I need to perform.”

“You absolutely don’t need to.”

“… I want to.”

“I won’t give you marshmallow even if you do.”

“It’s okay. I have money now. And I can always ask Azuma.”

“Oh my god…”

Happy(?) to say, that was the first time Homare Arisugawa, a broken cyborg, had ever wanted so badly to throttle someone.

Hisoka Mikage was just the worst.

He's selfish, unfriendly, and troublesome. Everyone would agree on this.

“What do you want from me, Alice?”

Hisoka would ask from time to time, and Homare would always wonder if his answers that he just wanted Hisoka to take better care of himself was just too confusing for him. Hisoka would always ask back, “why?” afterward.

And then, Homare would wonder if he’s just that obvious.

When did it start, Homare wondered.

Hisoka was just the worst, he remembered thinking so just a few months prior. At first, there’s nothing but disdain, and yet he had become dependent on Hisoka when he realized it.

He remembered a woman he once loved with all his heart, whom he’d cared with all he had. He remembered wanting her to smile because it’s just _wrong_ when she’s not smiling. Previously, she’d always smiled when Homare recited his poems, always praised them, so he figured she’d smile once more if he recites one for her.

Her face twisting in anger was something Homare wouldn’t forget.

Why? What’s different?

He couldn’t understand.

To her, it was something obvious. To everyone else, it was obvious. Everyone but Homare.

Then, there was Hisoka, who just couldn’t understand something so simple. That it’s painful when other people are in pain. That it’s relieving and joyful when everyone else was also enjoying themselves.

Hisoka Mikage was simply far more out of touch with humanity than even Homare Arisugawa. The worst of the worst, perhaps.

Homare realized that early.

He realized that, accepted that, and thought…

“I can’t leave him alone.”

If left alone, he’d die.

Despite his exasperation, he kept on looking after this worst human being who’s just the laziest, the most inconsiderate, the most selfish Homare had the misfortune of meeting. Perhaps he saw himself in this person, who couldn’t understand Homare no matter how he explained himself.

Sleep and marshmallows, as long as he had those, he’d be satisfied. Just as Homare too, felt like he’d be satisfied as long as he had his arts.

Homare struggled to fit in, but Hisoka never bothered.

If only he didn’t have his grandfather, the memory of being accepted despite his faults, perhaps Homare would have ended up like him. Selfish, uncaring, troublesome…

No.

His lover had _spat_ those very words at Homare.

Hisoka’s existence comforted him. There exists, after all, someone who was far worse than himself. What a selfish reason. But, there’s comfort in seeing Hisoka being himself and be accepted still by others. If he could be accepted with his faults, then surely Homare too still had hope.

Hisoka wouldn’t die if left alone. He’s stronger than that. He survived all this time on his own despite his illness in the street due to that strength. The one who needed Hisoka for his own self-satisfaction was Homare himself.

The one who’d die without the other was Homare.

If he hadn’t met Hisoka and saw how everyone accepted him and his faults wholeheartedly, Homare would have given up on people.

Hisoka was, after all, broken just like the watch his grandmother had given him. Broken and unneeded. Thrown away and left gathering dust. And yet, Izumi extended her hand and picked him up. She considered him a precious member of the company from the get-go, despite his faults. Everyone else too never seemed to be anything but worrying over him.

And Homare-

“… why are you sleeping in a place like this?”

“I don’t want to hear that from you of all people,” Homare sighed. When he sat up, he realized he’d been covered with a blanket.

“This is…”

“I borrowed it. From Azuma.”

“You… fetched it for me?”

Hisoka shifted his gaze as he sat down. If it’s their usual, Homare would be the one doing the covering since unlike Tasuku he couldn’t just carry Hisoka anywhere, and Hisoka would ask once more when he’s roused awake.

_‘Why do you care? What do you want from me?’_

Homare felt like asking, this time. Just to tease him a bit. He decided against it.

“What were you doing?”

“I’m just thinking of my role.”

“… you’re weird.”

Takes one to know one, but Hisoka probably knew that best himself.

“… lately, Alice hasn’t been himself. You’re lost in your own world, and even slept in a place like this.”

“Putting a blanket on me like this is also not something you’d normally do,” Homare tugged on the blanket. Even when the spring breeze blew, he felt warm. “Shiki who likes to frustrate his butler is more like the usual you.”

Though that’s not a bad thing.

“The usual Alice would be if Sagishima gains penchants for poetry.”

“So, I should just read a poem?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Homare chuckled. Unlike the woman he’d loved, Hisoka had proclaimed from the start that he hated his poems. Rather, Homare was sure that beside Azuma (who was unreadable even by the normies, as Itaru would put) no one in the Winter Troupe really appreciated his poems.

They all liked him being happy, and thus they endured. They’re good people. They’re like Homare’s past lover, and so he’d been careful to avoid composing poems when he noticed they’re not in the mood.

Hisoka had no delicacy of normal people, however. Homare envied him and how uncaring he was sometimes. Life would be much easier if one could simply stop caring.

“Alice should always stand behind me, giving me marshmallows.”

“… that’s right, isn’t it?”

As expected from Hisoka, there’d always be something underlying it. There’s nothing he would do unless it’s for his favorite sweets.

The worst of the worst, absolutely content in his solitude except for when it suited him.

“Let’s get inside. I feel bad for Tsumugi’s flowers. They’re wilting.”

Or so he thought, as Hisoka gave Homare his hand. Homare took it hesitantly, dumbfounded with the realization.

Since when, Homare wondered.

It’s nothing new. It’s not that he suddenly changed. It started with small things, like sharing his warmth and marshmallows with Azuma. He accompanied Tsumugi and Misumi moon watching and playing with the cats with Muku. Homare didn’t think much of it. Sleep, marshmallows, and cats were things Hisoka liked.

But, aah, that’s right. Sakuya had thanked him profusely for the advice on how to act as Cheshire.

He also had Homare’s watch fixed.

Hisoka was changing.

Feeling bad for the flowers... He could probably now understand the pain one would naturally feel when others around them are in pain. He even admitted that he felt Homare's pain over losing his watch.

A loose gear had come into place, and the broken clock had started to tick again.

Even the worst of the worst could learn to be kind. Even if he couldn’t, it wouldn’t matter, Homare knew it the best himself.

Homare looked down at his watch, fascinated with the moving needles. The echoing _tick tack._ His heart felt full.

_‘For the mechanical you.’_

“Isn’t it rather romantic?”

Azuma said it, offhandedly. Homare knew that he meant how his grandfather loved his grandmother. But, well, it got him thinking.

The clock had gotten him thinking so much, Homare realized. About himself, about his past with his grandparents and his lover, and also…

About Hisoka Mikage.

About this horrible person Homare had decided to care for. The person Homare had found to be essential in his life, just as important as poetry, art and also his broken watch.

The alluring mystery surrounding him, his baffling nature, his strength, his warm hand, and also newfound kindness…

Why? Hisoka would often ask as he was incapable of understanding kindness. And, if Homare was to answer-

“It came to me! Apparently, I love Hisoka-kun more than I thought!”

He confessed in the play, just to Hisoka, as Sagishima.

Afterward, he clarified, because of course, it would need clarification. Not many could understand Homare Arisugawa the broken cyborg, and he was certain Hisoka wouldn’t even bother trying. He just grumbled about Homare adding to the lines he had to say upstage, and nothing else. He didn't seem to even realize that Homare was mixing in his own feelings into his character's lines.

“Uhm… I… I see? I think?”

“You get him?”

“Homare is certainly adorable.”

Was everyone’s reaction, before they glanced at Hisoka who was seemingly just dumbstruck.

“… I don’t like you that much,” was his reply to Homare’s heartfelt confession. Blunt and crude as always.

Homare didn’t mind.

Agape doesn’t need reciprocation. Homare loved, and thus he was content. As long as Hisoka was at his side Homare felt like he’d be happy and satisfied.

Like the broken watch Homare treasured. Proof of something intangible, comforting his soul despite its faults. 

“My love… Flowers blooming aplenty, breaking through the ice. Spring has come, and yet I know… fruits they would not bear. Even so, there’s no denying this. You are beautiful… Fufu, it came out quite nicely, don’t you think so?”

“… I don’t get it.”

“It’s fine if you don’t. I know you don’t have the sense for art, Hisoka-kun.” Homare gestured vaguely to Hisoka’s side of the room as if to make a point. Hisoka was just as artistically not inclined as anyone could get.

“Then why did you ask me…? Alice is weird.”

“I can say the same for you. You are an enigma, Hisoka-kun. Well, that is what I like about you.”

Homare started humming to a random song he'd heard the children from Summer had sung along as he noted down his new poems. It was a wonderful night, and he's still giddy from their successful final performance. He'd drunk quite a bit and was a bit buzzed as well, and the realization of his feelings made him feeling particularly inspired. 

He thought Hisoka would just sleep ahead, as he's not one to be bothered even the light was still on.

“… do you… want me to be _that_ for you?”

”What do you mean?"

”Your lover."

Homare paused his scribbling. When he looked up from his notes, Hisoka was watching him intently. If Homare had been a normal person, he’d probably answer ‘yes’ happily and enthusiastically. As it was, Homare was just confused as to where it came from.

Hisoka had, after all, proclaimed that he didn’t like Homare that much.

“Goodness, whatever gives that impression?”

“You don’t?”

Hisoka tilted his head slightly, confusion palpable. Homare just stared as he processed this offer from Hisoka. Despite his newfound empathetic nature, the side of him which would always assume that everyone would only be kind to him for something in return hadn’t changed apparently, and if Homare had answered ‘yes’ like how a normal person definitely would, Hisoka would probably steel himself to act as Homare’s lover.

Cynicism. Self-defense mechanism. Kindness…?

“Hisoka-kun can be _too_ kind, hm. Noted! I must make sure you don’t hurt yourself from this, I see. I need to consult Tsumugi-kun too…”

“ _Alice_.”

“To answer your question, no? I just wanted you to know how I adore you, Hisoka-kun. How your mere presence soothes me. I don’t exactly wish for anything to change between us. Not if you don’t want to.”

“…”

Homare smiled as he pushed a marshmallow to Hisoka’s lips.

“I just want you to be happy and safe. As long as you are, I don’t need anything else.”

Besides, they’re roommates. They sleep together, eat together, and honestly? Homare didn’t know if there’s anything else he could ask from Hisoka. Homare Arisugawa was, after all, a fortunate person. That hadn’t changed even after he realized he adored Hisoka in _that_ way.

Hisoka seemed hesitant, but he opened his mouth and accepted the offering nevertheless.

“… hm. I am. I think.”

After all, to be accepted was a happy thing. He didn’t like acting that much, but he liked being with everyone. Marshmallows and warm fluffy bed are also always readily available. The dorm’s roof is also triangular, as Misumi said.

Homare shared the sentiment.

“… Alice.”

“Yes?”

“You’re weird.”

“You have been saying that a lot.“

“I don’t like you that much… but, I don’t hate you.”

“I see. Fufu, then I am glad. I love you very much, Hisoka-kun. I’ll make sure there’s always marshmallow for you.”

“… high-quality ones?”

“When you deserve it.”

“And you said you love me…”

Hisoka’s pout was, as usual, adorable. Not even Tasuku could refuse him when he’s like this. Thankfully(?), Homare wasn’t normal and thus was able to keep firm.

“It is not good to be too spoiled. I need to be stern for your own sake, you know? You are being spoiled rotten by everyone else after all, with how lovely you are. Aah, and you've fallen asleep. Goodness, to the beat of your own drum as always... Come on, you'd get sick again sleeping on the floor. Here, Penpen is holding a marshmallow, Hisoka-kun."

"Hmm... Penpen... don't eat my marshmallow..."

He blearily rose from his seat, made a grabbing motion towards the stairs to his loft like a zombie. He's adorable. The slight smile on his usually stoic face as he munched on the marshmallow and hugged the penguin close also made Homare giddy. 

Yeah, Homare was satisfied enough with this.

"Good night, Hisoka-kun."

Hisoka opened his eyes and stared down at Homare through the safety rail of his loft.

"... Alice."

"Hm? What is it? I'm about to turn off the light."

"Come here... a bit closer."

Surprisingly, he sat up. Homare complied, confused about what his roommate could want.

Hisoka had mismatched eyes, Homare realized as Hisoka leaned closer then pressed his lips to Homare's. There's sweetness spreading through his mouth, and all poems he'd thought up disappeared like soap bubbles bursting into nothingness. It probably only lasted few seconds at best, but it sure felt like an eternity. Homare saw Hisoka licking his lips as he pulled away, eyes narrowed in contemplation, and there's so many things he'd like to ask and say to him but as it was, his body refused to move even a muscle.

"... hm. Yeah. I don't like Alice that much," was Hisoka's comment before he plopped down, probably asleep before his head even reached his pillow.

"Hi... Hisoka-kun, you-!!!"

Hisoka Mikage was simply the worst. Selfish, inconsiderate, lazy, and it wouldn't change anytime soon.


End file.
